Chapter 56 - Divide Intervention
Jaune tapped his foot impatiently, as the ancient elevator slowly shook and ascended.
Oum, was it a multiversal constant that all lifts everywhere were just slow?!
Maybe he should have just asked it to drop him off through the open silo, rather than at the entrance of the bunker Pyrrha had last been spotted entering.
Probably not, though.
He hadn't liked the look of the giant missile-looking thing he'd spotted through the open silo doors, and he didn't know where in the bunker Pyrrha was. Better to just follow her tracks.
Jaune let loose a sigh, as concern for Pyrrha welled up within him once more, and he hoped she hadn't run into that Legion assassin yet.
That Dust-darned idiot...
Pyrrha, both his first partner from Remnant, and the badass older Courier that he'd been travelling with in this reality... despite the clear differences between the two (enough that he hadn't even recognized her as Pyrrha when he'd first met her), they both had that exasperating trait of crushing themselves under the weight of expectations that they'd placed on themselves.
His partner'd done it with her talk about destiny (even though he still didn't fully understand what she'd been going on about), and the Courier'd done it with the Divide (even though he still didn't understand the full story behind it).
Well, he still wouldn't have changed it for the world, though.
Pyrrha really had been a better partner than he could have ever expected, let alone deserved.
And the elevator was still ascending!
How long was this damn thing?!
Finally, it gradually rumbled to a stop, and the doors shuddered open...
Revealing a man who looked just like a White Leg (minus the body paint), standing over his injured partner, with a length of wood raised over his head.
Protectiveness immediately surged forth from within him, and he dashed forward, roaring: "GET AWAY FROM HER!"
The pair immediately tuned to face him, shock evident in their face.
He didn't care.
The White Leg-wannabe tried taking a step back, but Jaune had already closed the distance, and he knocked the man off of the platform as he smashed his shield into him, before taking position in front of Pyrrha, hovering over her defensively, eyeing the spot he'd last seen the man warily.
After a moment, as he was sure that the man wasn't getting back up any time soon, he turned back to Pyrrha, and knelt down by her, to check on her condition.
"... Jaune... ?" Pyrrha weakly rasped, before coughing up a gob of blood. "What... what are you doing here?"
"I'm helping you; what's it look like?" Jaune asked, just the barest trace of sarcasm in his tone, before his eyes widened, as he took a closer look at her. Her fancy new armor was dented, scored, and covered in blood stains (though fortunately there were no breaches, as far as he could tell), there was a massive blotch of a bruise covering her forehead and one of her eyes, her right hand looked twisted and mangled, and her lower left leg was bending wrongly thrice. His expression softened slightly, and he reassured her: "Don't worry, it's going to be okay. Oum, what happened to you...?"
"Why?" Pyrrha gasped, unable to comprehend what was going on. "Why are you here? What about Zion?"
"Who cares about Zion?!" Jaune snapped, exasperated by the lack of concern Pyrrha was showing about her own injuries. "And what do you mean, why?! We're partners! I told you, I'm sticking with you! Of course I'd come when you'd walked into an obvious trap laid by an Legion assassin!"
"So..." A gravelly voice mockingly congratulated the pair, interrupting any further conversation, as Ulysses emerged, pulling himself back up onto the main platform, as a medical eyebot flew up to him and injected him with a stimpak, healing his bruised ribs. "Hound's arrived, following after its master. Heard a lot about you, boy. Talks, like the Bear, but fights like the Bull. Some even say you're Caesar's obsession, just like Hoover Dam."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't care." Jaune growled, refusing to get distracted by his words (did bears even talk?) as he raised his shield between the man and him and Pyrrha. "Joshua told me about you."
"You've met the Malpais Legate?" Ulysses's eyes widened.
"Helped him with his White Leg problem, too." Jaune taunted, guessing that the "Malpais Legate" was what Joshua had been called, during his time in Caesar's Legion.
"White Legs..." Ulysses mused, before scoffing self-deprecatingly. "Made a mistake, teaching them the workings of powder and casing, showing them tech caches... ordering them to destroy the New Canaanites..."
"Jaune!" Pyrrha shouted weakly, interrupting Ulysses. "We need to stop him! He's trying to launch nukes, destroy the NCR and Vegas!"
"What?!" Jaune yelped in surprise. He'd expected the Courier to be in trouble, sure, but the stakes had suddenly risen to levels he was more used to seeing in Skyrim! "Why would he do such a thing?!"
"She destroyed my world, my home." Ulysses snarled, gesturing to the world. "Butcher of the Divide."
"What, because she led the NCR and the Legion here?" Jaune rolled his eyes, having heard his partner's words once before. "Because she's bad luck?"
"Because she delivered this package." Ulysses growled, pulling out the case Pyrrha had carried from Navarro.
Jaune's eyes widened, as he recognized the Enclave symbols on it, but before he could defend Pyrrha any further, he heard a voice behind him admit: "He's right."
"Pyrrha?" Jaune didn't relax his stance, but he couldn't help the questioning tone in his voice.
"He's right, Jaune." Pyrrha repeated, even as she struggled to prop herself up with her elbow. She could never forget that package. "I did deliver that package. But I didn't know what was in it! I couldn't have known! It was an accident!"
"Accident!" Ulysses snarled, before spitting on the ground, as Pyrrha looked away in shame. "The names you hang on this... Courier... you carry death wherever you go, Mojave knows - or will."
"I won't let you." Jaune snarled back.
"Stopping me, for doing what your master once did?" Ulysses scoffed. "Loyal, hound, give you that. Can't think of any other reason, to go down this road."
"You're right." Pyrrha admitted, interrupting the two men. "He's loyal, far more loyal than I deserve, and I'm already letting him down..."
"Pyrrha..." Jaune murmured.
Pyrrha turned to him, and apologized with a sad smile on her face: "I'm sorry, Jaune. I know you must be disappointed and disgusted... but please! Help me stop Ulysses!"
"You didn't let me down, and you don't need to beg." Jaune just replied, not unkindly. "I was already going to stop him anyway... partner."
"Blind loyalty." Ulysses sneered, as Pyrrha just stared at Jaune in shock. "Expected of a hound."
"It's not blind." Jaune retorted.
"So you choose to follow, even knowing what she did?" Ulysses blinked.
"You're planning on killing thousands of innocent people." Jaune pointed out. "But even if you weren't... I would."
"Jaune..."
"So you would excuse her actions?!" Ulysses thundered furiously.
"I'm not excusing anything." Jaune replied hotly. "I'm not judging her, or her actions. Because I can't."
A stunned silence filled the air.
"This wasn't my home, my hands aren't the cleanest, and I don't know what happened here." Jaune continued. "But I do know this. I've only known Pyrrha Nikos, Courier Six, as a woman who's been solely blaming herself for what happened, and is determined to seize a second chance, to make amends for what happened."
"And that makes it alright?" Ulysses scoffed.
Instead of refuting the point, knowing he was talking to someone who seemed convinced Pyrrha was a Grimm in human form, Jaune instead tried a different approach: "Do you think what happened here is worse than what Joshua did as Caesar's Legate?"
Ulysses was temporarily lost for words, knowing full well that the atrocities the Malpais Legate had carried out dwarfed even Legatus Lanius's and Vulpes Inculta's.
Jaune pressed on: "What about what the White Legs did to New Canaan... what you had them do?"
"Those were different!" Ulysses finally hissed. "Those had purpose!"
"And that makes it okay?!" Jaune shot back. "Everything that happened was okay, because you had a reason for it?"
"Better than this!" Ulysses hissed. "Better than the senseless slaughter that happened here!"
Jaune just continued on: "Even if you truly believe that... did you know, that Joshua believes that he can still be saved? That the New Canaanites believe he can be forgiven?"
"New Canaanites." Ulysses scoffed, shaking his head. "Not surprised. When one is ruined like Graham was... sometimes home is the only place left."
"New Canaan took him back, treated him like he'd never left." Jaune confirmed with a nod. "That's what family does, and that's what home is. Ulysses... I understand, what you feel."
Ulysses bristled, but Jaune cut him off before he could interrupt: "I lost my home once, too... and to this day, I still don't understand why, still can't make sense of how it happened, or where to go next."
"... you truly do see, don't you..." Ulysses breathed. "And yet you still stand in my way?"
"I'm stopping you because I understand!" Jaune protested. "I know how much it hurts, losing your home, your family... and that's why I won't let you do this to anyone else!"
For a moment, even the tremors shaking the bunker stilled.
Pyrrha could only watch Jaune wordlessly, enraptured by his figure as he worked his magic, on both the couriers.
Quietly, Ulysses asked: "Do you really believe the city of slaves and ghosts, blinded by the lights of House, are worth saving?"
"Vegas definitely isn't perfect..." Jaune conceded, remembering the slums of Freeside right outside the Strip, and how the situation was even worse outside of Freeside. "But it's not all lights. There's some comfort to be had there... and I think even you look like you need a place to rest and call home."
"Even if I do... the Bear, the Bull, even House... will tear it apart, convert it, either with purpose, or by accident." Ulysses frowned. "Or do you think that you have strength, enough to hold up NCR and Caesar, enough to temper the God of the Lucky 38, long enough so that Vegas may live again?"
"Not by myself." Jaune admitted, remembering how the discussion about the Brotherhood had went. "But I believe in Pyrrha."
"Her?" Ulysses snorted derisively.
"She's done it before." Jaune stated matter-of-factly.
"And you believe she deserves a second chance?"
"I think that, if Joshua can be saved... that everyone at least deserves the chance." Jaune answered carefully, firmly. "And even though the road can be a difficult one, and we may stumble and fall at times... if Caesar's Legate can return to it, so can I. So can Pyrrha. And so can you."
"Jaune..." Pyrrha could only mutter his name, tears freely flowing. He... he really believed in her, even after learning the truth. Believed that there was good in her, that she could still do good... still be forgiven...
"Your words... carry the weight of your convictions... the weight of the hopes of a people." Ulysses finally spoke. "Perhaps the two of you might yet build something out of Vegas, might curb House's excesses with words like those."
Pyrrha's eyes widened, as she watched a miracle occur in front of her.
And in the next moment...
"Yet it matters not." Ulysses regretfully informed him. "Convincing me changes nothing. The Divide still stands against us."
"The Divide?" Jaune echoed in confusion, as the lift rumbled once more, and the silo began shaking and shuddering.
"Our enemies gather outside... shadows of the Bear and Bull... they will have found their way in, just as you two did." Ulysses explained. "It was always my intention - in case I could not kill her, the Marked Men would flood this place, cut off her escape."
"I see." Jaune replied drily, as the lift doors slowly rumbled open, revealing a horde of skinless men roaring and screaming, baying for blood. "And what in Oum's name are those?"
"Marked Men." Ulysses answered simply, raising his rifle.
"Ghouls. Had the skin flayed off of them by the sandstorms, kept alive only by radiation." Pyrrha added automatically, struggling to prop herself up. She wanted to ask Jaune if he'd meant every word he'd said, to cry and to thank him and to beg for his forgiveness, to ask what had happened in Zion and how exactly she could return to the path he'd mentioned.
Instead, weakened by her injuries, her elbow slipped, and the fractured edges ground against each other once more. Between that and the urgency of the situation, she swore: "Fuck! Jaune, pass me my pistol, would you? I'm a little... immobile at the moment."
"I've got a better idea." Jaune suggested, before closing his eyes, feeling his Aura.
The two Couriers looked at Jaune, about to ask what his plan was, when he began glowing a light yellow.
Suddenly, he stretched his hand out, and grabbed Pyrrha's, who gasped as the warm and familiar light suddenly began flowing into her.
Just like that night at Goodsprings.
Her bruises, her fractures, all of the past two week's worth of wounds, were suddenly washed away in an instant, as bright white light engulfed her.
Strength returned to her body, as she couldn't help but relax, and bask in the glory and comfort of the light, feeling the tinge of emotions as she did so.
Frustration.
Anger
Sorrow.
Kindness.
Affection.
Selflessness.
Protectiveness.
Determination.
Forgiveness.
Mercy.
Satisfaction.
She gasped and jumped to her feet as the light faded, ignoring the lack of pain to instead gawk at Jaune, who was still glowing.
She could only stammer: "I-that-you-but-what?"
"Stop the launch." Jaune instructed, as the first wave drew close, former Legion scouts with axes and weird blades and clubs in the vanguard. He spied what looked a lot like a rocket launcher and a few flamethrowers, though, somewhere at the back, and a feeling of deja vu welled up.
At least they weren't in power armor.
"I'll hold them off."
Jaune held his sword up, and began channeling Aura into it.
In response, the dragonbone sword burst into flames, as frost crept up the blade, and electricity danced around it.
He plunged the sword into the ground.
A wave of ice suddenly shot forth, and some Marked Men were frozen in place, while others slid and fell.
Where the wave stopped, a wall of ice sprang up, intercepting rockets and bullets.
Jaune didn't waste any time, and immediately charged forwards, bisecting a Marked Man as he advanced, before thrusting his sword forward into another, and smashing his shield into the face of a third.
The Marked Men, maddened by pain, aggressive to all who did not suffer as they did, did the only thing they knew how to do, when presented with an outsider.
They threw themselves at him in a near-mindless frenzy.
As fire and lightning lashed out with each swing, claiming more and more victims, a particularly-large Marked Man stepped forward, this one with a blade and helmet made in crude imitation of Legatus Lanius's, the fear of the new Legate being one of the few things his shattered mind had been able to cling on to, as he'd been bathed in nuclear fire, and had the skin torn from his flesh as sand and ash and dust had flayed him alive.
Jaune's shield blocked the Blade of the West, and he separated the blade from the handle with his next swing, before smashing the pommel into the marked beast's tribal helmet.
The former Legionaries howled in fury and shock, as the image they'd painstakingly crafted and clung on to was tarnished, before the helmet was separated from its owner, along with his head.
"Crocea Mors..." Ulysses breathed, shocked to find out that Caesar's obsession was real.
The hound, the boy, was truly a dangerous weapon, both with his sword, and with his words, that eroded the will and conviction of his enemies.
Pyrrha heard his words, and immediately dismissed them with a quiet scoff.
Caesar was wrong.
Jaune wasn't a weapon.
A weapon didn't mend the soul and the body.
A weapon didn't preach pacifism.
A weapon didn't teach atonement and forgiveness.
She didn't know what he was, how he'd appeared right as she'd needed him (twice!), how he'd healed her life-threatening wounds with but a touch, or how he was doing... whatever the fuck he was doing, but she knew this - he was still Jaune.
The only person who'd stuck with her.
The only person who'd seen past her.
The only person who'd said she could be forgiven.
And right now?
That was more than enough.
The sound of engines igniting snapped the two out of their respective dazes, and they turned back to the missile as it began violently shaking and rumbling in its housing, while the other missiles began slowly rising as well.
Ulysses immediately pulled out the detonator, the cause of everything that happened in the Divide, and began fumbling with it, while Pyrrha looked on helplessly, ignoring the proximity of the guy who'd shot her, blown her up, and shattered her shin.
Well, she couldn't completely ignore it, but she had more pressing concerns.
Also, Jaune had said they both deserved a chance.
Then she spotted a nearby console, and rushed to it, trying to figure out if there were any controls for suddenly aborting the launch.
Jaune ducked under an a bladed glove, as a Marked Man swung wildly at him, before sweeping his legs out under him and impaling him as he fell. As he withdrew his sword, he took a moment to catch his breath, noting that the horde was slowly thinning.
Unfortunately, the ones that were left were the ones with the guns.
Small arms fire bounced off of his Aura and shield as he quickly dashed for the nearest Marked Man, and took his arm off at the elbow. The Marked Man howled in pain, before Jaune punched him in the face, and knocked him into the Marked Man with the rocket launcher with a swing of his shield.
As the Marked Man reflexively fired at the incoming target, and bits of gore rained down, Jaune knelt down, and grabbed the fallen gun, hoping that the Marked Man hadn't used all of the ammunition in the magazine, before raising it and squeezing the trigger.
He got lucky, and three more Marked Men fell before the gun ran empty.
He tossed it away, and charged once more like a rampaging Ursa.
"Fuck!" Pyrrha swore, as she kicked the console. "Any luck on your end, Ulysses?"
"Some." Ulysses intoned. "Can stop the rest from launching. Can't abort when about to launch."
As Jaune finally reached the elevator, and used his sword to freeze the gears and stop more Marked Men from ascending, he took a moment to listen to his surroundings, and make sure there weren't any more Marked Men around him.
Nope, just shaking and tremors from the missiles.
That wasn't good either, but at least Pyrrha and the other Courier probably weren't about to be blown up by a stray rocket.
Then the shaking grew so intense bits of the ceiling began falling down, and he was forced to brace himself as shockwaves sent loose objects flying away.
Then, the roaring became deafening, and the entire cave shuddered as the missile broke free of it's moorings, and took off.
A moment of calm followed, as they watched it streaking up into the sky.
"The Divide won." Ulysses finally murmured in resignation.
"Jaune..." Pyrrha called out helplessly. "What do we do?"
"I..." Jaune started, his mind racing.
What in Oum's name was he supposed to do about another nuke being launched?!
At least this wasn't about to come down on him; not like the marked men would make a good macabre and makeshift bunker, anyway.
And he was pretty sure there weren't any more aliens ready to interfere out of nowhere...
Jaune blinked, as a stupid idea came to mind.
"I'll see what I can do." Jaune called out, before activating the portable teleporter in his pocket.
A heartbeat later, he was on the alien scout craft, giving the robot piloting it orders.
Track the missile.
Plot an intercept course.
Engage auto-pilot.
Open the window.
Take the teleporter back to the mothership, and shut it down.
As the drone quickly carried out its tasks, and the small ship raced to its calculated coordinates, Jaune took a moment to reflect that this was probably somewhere between "get sent flying after the World-Eater" and "get into Beacon with fake transcripts and zero training".
The drone gave a beep of concern, just before it went through the portal.
Jaune just waved it away, as he took a moment to look out of the window.
He trusted the drone's piloting, but he still had to make sure the intercept course was correct.
He spotted the missile growing closer, and couldn't help but gulp.
Oum, it really was a lot bigger up close...
Once he was satisfied it would be stopped, he leapt out of the window, trying to remember which Beacon Landing Strategy covered Re-Entry From Low Earth (or Remnant) Orbit and Escaping Nuclear Explosions.
Ulysses and Pyrrha, of course, saw none of this.
Instead, all they saw was Jaune saying he'd take care of it, before he suddenly disappeared in a flash of silver light.
They blinked.
"Courier... what was all that?" Ulysses spoke first, unable to help his curiosity. "And where did the Crocea Mors go?"
Pyrrha just looked up at the nuclear missile, as it grew more and more distant, and calmly stated: "To take care of it."
She knew that, logically speaking, she had no way of knowing where he had gone, or what he was about to do.
It didn't matter.
After all, he'd said that he'd do what he could.
And she had faith in him.
She just prayed that he'd be alright.
Then, just barely visible in the distance, they spotted a figure streaking down rapidly, heading towards the missile.
And then, just like that night in Goodsprings, a second sun appeared over the horizon, the light almost blinding even at this distance, even through the thick sandstorms that covered the Divide's skies.
"Crocea Mors did it..." Ulysses breathed in awe.
Pyrrha didn't respond, instead continuing to pray for his safety.
From the explosion, a figure fell back down to the earth.
And the two couriers watched as Jaune Arc descended from the heavens, glowing brightly, bright enough to rival the second sun in the sky as he arrived through the open silo doors.
Author's Note: Sorry for how long this chapter took... but unlike the others, this one didn't come easy. It took me a lot of time to get the dialogue between Jaune and Ulysses to feel... well, like two people having an actual conversation, one trying to convince the other desperately while the other tries to rationalize his actions and thoughts to everyone, rather than just being two mouthpieces spewing differing ideologies and points. Couple that with the fact that, as I always say, I loathe writing dialogue, and I have no idea if I succeeded.
Although I imagine that, if I didn't, people would be sure to let me know.
The line about family and home... honestly, I didn't even consider that point, until I tried rewriting the scene for the fifth time, and stumbled into that line of dialogue from Ulysses. From there, it was easy enough to link it to Jaune, his sympathy, his views on family as well. For someone to tell Ulysses, "I understand what you feel. Underneath the philosophical bullshit, I can see the hurting man. A man trying to find meaning in the senseless accident that took his home."
And this, honestly, was one of the biggest reasons why I had Jaune be the one to talk to Joshua Graham. Not just because he needed to hear it, but because I wanted Pyrrha to hear it from Jaune.
To Courier Pyrrha, the biggest draw of religion isn't the promise of eternal paradise. It isn't the fear of eternal damnation. It isn't even about the hope that there's someone out there looking out for you, and has a plan for you and your life, not anymore. It's the promise of salvation, of redemption, of forgiveness. I'm sure most people have things they feel guilty about, justified and logical or not, and Courier Pyrrha definitely has a lot of baggage.
Now imagine carrying that guilt for 4 years, then meeting someone who might, might, be able to see past all that, and reassure you that it's not your fault... and then being finding out that yes, actually, you were responsible (partially or fully, doesn't matter). Imagine hitting that low, being emotionally and physically devastated, during a confrontation with a survivor of your actions... when the person returns, refuses to judge you, and offers you a path to redemption, tells you that yes, you are not unforgiveable.
The fact that he then starts tossing out miracles like candy is probably just overkill at that point.
And I felt like ending it on a cliffhanger, letting people believe that I'd be using him intercepting the nuke as the catalyst for a dimension skip...
But nah. I've done enough fake-outs for now. More importantly, I won't deny people the Second Battle of Hoover Dam.